


Stay With Me

by Fan_Insanity



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Bullying, Discrimination, F/M, Jack saves the day, M/M, Mark just wants a friend, Or does he, new kid, powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-24 14:38:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 11,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9764234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fan_Insanity/pseuds/Fan_Insanity
Summary: Mark was just trying to fit in before his stupid Power came into his life and messed everything up. Cast aside out of fear, Mark searches for anyone to be his friend. Like a guardian angel, Jack appears and suddenly Mark isn't so alone. But this new student hides a secret behind his green hair and his Irish accent. But there's nothing to be afraid of. Right?





	1. The Ceremony

Mark fidgeted in the stiff auditorium seat, but he put on a confident smile. He had to; he was surrounded by the schools most popular students: the jocks, the cheerleaders, the rich kids. They were all there. Mark was only so lucky as to be in this group because of his so called "handsome face" along with his mediocre football skills. He didn't really like them much;they were jerks frankly and Mark only stuck with them to prevent the possible ridicule of the other students and the torment he would face if he left.

But now was not the time for contemplating social standings, now was the time for waiting and worrying and being excited because it was the Ceremony. The ceremony that would decide your field of work, your rank, and just the way others perceive you would change; for good or bad was to be determined today. So here Mark was, worrying, because he had no idea what he was going to be. Many kids already had a fairly good assumption based on their powers showing up but Mark was left behind. Called a "late bloomer" by his mom, Mark's powers had never once shown up and it scared him. He was certain however that he wouldn't be anything powerful; his mom had powers over flora while his dad had minor control over the wind before he-. 

The screeching of a microphone too close to the speaker knocked him out of his treacherous thoughts. A ripple of nervous laughter rippled through the auditorium, the students looking for any way to relieve the tangible anxiousness in the air. The principal cleared his throat before addressing the audience.  
"Students, today is the day you learn of your powers. The day you start your journey into learning control over your powers. Today is the day that could decide the rest of your life!" The audience applauded, the students much more subdued than the teachers. One of the jocks behind him mumbled a "no pressure" which earned a laugh from the surrounding students.  
"Without further ado, because I'm sure you're all anxious to knower your powers, let the Ceremony commense!" Glittering confetti flew up from behind him and formed intricate spirals in the air, thanks to the teachers with control over the air.

One by one students were called up, and using an ancient dagger, a drop of blood was dropped into a fire. The flames would change color depending on what Power you had. Before long it was Mark's turn, and he cursed his last name for being so close to the beginning of the alphabet. After a couple of stumbles caused by some forceful pats on the back, he made his way onstage. A prick was made. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt, although it could've been the nerves overriding his system. The drop fell and everything seemed to move in slow motion. The ruby red drop slowly falling before being engulfed in the intense flames. The flames turned a soft green and Mark almost collapsed in relief. He had Nym-.

The flames turned a deep blue. Water. Then yellow. Electricity. Then pink. Love. It moved through all the powers, shifting faster and faster until it was a nauseating kaleidoscope of colors. Suddenly, the flames shot up, burning a good 15 feet into the air. But that wasn't the worst of it. The worst part was the color. It was a deep, pitch black and it seemed to burn silently, accentuating the already aghast silence in the auditorium. The principal seemed to find his voice after a few moments, his voice cracking as he spoke.

"Mark E-Edward Fischbach. Darkness and f-fear."


	2. Mad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm so surprised that anyone read this! Here's the next chapter, complete with bullying and discrimination. Yay!

Mark felt sick. His legs wobbled from the sheer shock that he, the guy with the gardener mom and the only-slightly-able-to-control-air dad, got darkness and fear. It was impossible. There was no way. 

Two hands grabbed his own and "escorted" him offstage. At first, Mark was confused. Why were they afraid of him?...It was his power. He watched with disdain as his "friends" stared at him in horror, some even having the audacity to glare at him as if it was all his fault.

But Mark wasn't mad. If he had just seen something like that he would've been scared, too. The hands stopped pushing him and sat him down in the back, far away from everyone else. He felt something within him begin to get irritated, but he pushed it down and watched the ceremony, jealous of everyone else, each as normal as the next.

"Darkness and Fear: One of the rarest Powers. Many are accused for crimes because of their powers. We are still unsure of their exact abilities, seeing as they're either in jail or hiding their powers as best they can. That being said, they are said to be extremely strong, can control shadows, and have the power to control fear. None of these are confirmed however."  
Mark shut the book. This was the only book in the library on Darkness and Fear controllers and all it said was that they were "inconclusive." Huffing heavily, Mark made his way to lunch.

But he wasn't mad.

He sat at an empty table in the corner of the room. The old one that squeaked when you moved. He stared at his plate disdainfully. The lunch lady seemed to pile on the mystery meat today. Suddenly, a hand came down on his tray, flipping it and spilling the brown goop all over his clothes.   
"Oops." And without a backward glance, the jerk walked off, his lackeys cackling like hyenas. 

But he wasn't mad.

He was walking down the corridor, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone. Unsuccessfully. His eye caught that of a jock and his immediately slammed into a locker.  
"What are you looking at, you Dark freak?!!" Before Mark could answer, the jock's fist came down on his face multiple times. Chuckling to his friends, they left Mark there, bloody nose and a black eye. Before he passed out, Mark knew one thing for sure.

He was mad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Updates will be kinda random cause of school but I'll try to update as often as possible. And don't worry, Jack will have his debut soon!


	3. Subject

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovered camera transcript from....*transmission failed*

*Transcript based off of video surveillance*   
Video Reviewer ID: 7D3M-I60D5  
Subject: Mark E. Fischbach

Subject's eyes peel open. At least, one of them do. The other is sickly purple, sealed tight, the bruising matching the color on his nose. He rolls his neck, the motion surprisingly creepy. He stands, wobbling at first before regaining his balance. After cracking his knuckles, he rolls his neck again, less of a stretch and more of an involuntary reflex. He strolls down the hall, carrying with him an air of superiority and power. He snaps his fingers and the P.A crackled to life, spouting its fire drill warning. Teachers and students flooded the hallway, teachers wearing confused expressions, there was no fire drill scheduled for today. The jocks stayed however and the subject seemed to know that they would. Had he perhaps been in that group at one time? 

His face is emotionless but his eyes glimmer in amusement. Sometime between the fire drill and now, his face had fixed itself, now completely normal except for the heavy darkness under his eyes. He approaches the jocks and the camera glitches out for a second before the feed returns, subject appearing a few feet in front of where he was before. The picture is grainy, turning in black and white, except for the subject himself, who appears to be split into three overlapping images, one normal and one red and one blue, constantly phasing in and out of each other.

He reaches up and taps the guy who punched him on the shoulder. He turns around, clearly mad cause someone interrupted his conversation. His face twists in disgust when he realizes it's him, confused because his face is fine and it shouldn't be. He also seems scared, although he doesn't show it, cause he carries an aura of authority around him. Still, he puffs his chest and tries to look tough. Subject smirks as if it amuses him.  
"Hello, I just came to give you your wallet." He said, holding up a wallet that he totally didn't swipe when his back was turned.  
"Gimme that, you little freak! Now get your ass out of here, before me and my   
friends send it back to hell where it came from!" He and his group laugh like it was the funniest thing ever. Subject chuckles lowly and the cameras glitch again, the feed returning to the subject standing over the unconscious body of the guy.  
"Don't mock me. I'm more powerful than all of you put together." A pattern emerges from the feed. Glitch. Unconscious. Glitch. Unconscious. Rinses and repeats until all of them were knocked out. Mark glances back, and looking straight at the camera, he says,  
"Oops." Probably addressing principal when he inevitably saw this. He snaps his fingers again and the P.A once more, crackled to life.   
" To students and staff, we apologize for the inconvenience. There has been a mÅl-LfUncTion....." 

 

Final decision: More assessment required.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying the story so far! Constructive criticism is appreciated!


	4. Punishment?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Chaos is a name for any order that produces confusion in our minds."

Mark sat in the fake leather seat of the principal's office. He had never been here before, even with the crowds he hung around. It smelled of dust and cologne. The chair he sat in squeaked when it moved so he sat impossibly still with bated breath trying to calm himself down. He didn't understand what he did or why he did it. His mom had always to respect others and to never take revenge, but here he was, in the principal's office after he knocked out five students. What was wrong with him?

The principal himself was watching a playback of the tape and it wasn't pretty. He knew he deserved expulsion but he hoped for the best. The video ended and the principal sighed.  
"So let me get this straight. You knocked out five kids, tampered with school property, and you tampered with the fire alarms." Mark didn't move, paralyzed with the possible fear that he could be expelled.  
"Look I know your not a bad kid and you're an amazing student but this event was just too big for me to just ignore it." He shuffled through his papers, maybe hoping that they held an answer. His eyes landed on a piece of paper placed on the corner of his desk. His eyes glazed over slightly before he sat bolt upright making Mark jump and a squeak to resound from the chair.   
"How about you guide our new exchange student arriving next week?" Mark was confused, that was it? He wasn't going to complain however and nodded his head quickly. The principal smiled widely and guided him out of his office.   
"I'll tell you when he arrives here and then it's your job to make sure he finds his way around." With a wave, Mark was handed a pass to leave early and the door was shut.

Mark was left to his thoughts. He made his way down the hall towards the exit. Why had he done that? Was it his power? Well some part of him must've wanted to do that but why did he react like that? And why can't he remember anything past getting knocked out?

 

Mark was so lost in thought that he didn't notice the figure slipping out of the surveillance room, hard drive in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy. Kind of a short chapter but the next will be out soon. And I know Jack's not here yet but he will be! I promise!


	5. New Kid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark meets the new kid.

Mark was sitting in class a week later when the PA echoed through the halls.  
"Will Mark Fischbach come to the office? Mark Fischbach to the oFfiCe..." Mark sighed. The PA still glitches and it never failed to stir up bad memories from the incident. He made his way to the front, students shaking their heads as if they knew this was going to happen and that it was only a matter of time before Mark was in trouble again. 

Pushing them out of his mind, he made his way out the door and into the halls. He was actually fairly excited. The new kid could be a new chance for a friend, and although they weren't the best circumstances for meeting, Mark was hopeful that they'd be nice.

Opening the door to the office, he was expecting a shy kid, since they were here at this new school and they didn't know anyone. What he wasn't expecting was the kid to be chatting amiably with the principal. He managed to catch some of their conversation.  
"-and he hasn't snapped since then." Were they talking about him? Not wanting the kid to hear anymore he pushed open the door fully.  
"Ah, Mark we were just talking about you. All good things, don't worry." Mark doubted that. "This our new student, Sean." The kid raised his hand for Mark to shake it and Mark noticed how blue his eyes were. They were like the ocean which kind of scared him-  
"Call me Jack." Se-Jack's words broke him free of his mind. Mark took his hand and shook it.  
"You already know my name." Jack chuckled and his bright green hair shook. Mark felt happy for the first time in a week. He sat down and the chair still squeaked but he didn't care today.  
"So as I'm sure you remember, you will be guiding Jack around the school. As this school is quite a maze, I am requesting that you do so for a month's time." Mark was shocked, that was an extraordinary amount of time. Still the prospect of not being isolated outweighed any possible cons, so Mark smiled and nodded, in a way he hoped wasn't too enthusiastic. The principal glanced at the clock and saw that the day was almost over.  
"Mark, why don't you give Jack a quick tour and then you two can go home for the day. I'll inform your teacher." Mark nodded and held the door open for Jack. He chuckled again. Mark couldn't help but notice that it didn't feel real. Not like he didn't mean it but more like he wasn't sure how to. Still, Mark said nothing and led him out to the door.

"Classroom,classroom, another classroom."  
"Wow there's so many classrooms in this school." They both laughed, and Mark was amazingly happy. They both shared the same sense of humor which was great cause Mark hadn't been able to truly be himself since he came to this school.  
"So what's your Power?" Jacks inquisitive voice asked and Mark's happiness diminished. This was the moment Jack would leave and Mark would be alone once again. Still he forced himself to be honest and answer the question. He'd rather lose a friend being honest than lose a friend by lying.  
"Uh, darkness and fear." Mark felt so small, an ant on the might as well be a giant.  
"Really? That's really rare!" Mark was shocked. He...wasn't scared? Disgusted? Horrified? Mark nearly fainted from the relief.  
"What's the matter?"  
"Not many people reacted so positively towards that."  
"Well, that doesn't make any sense! You shouldn't judge people based off their powers!" As well meant a speech that was, it was hidden under a veil of monotony as if he had said this a million times before. Mark didn't say anything, however, trying to keep the only friend he had at the moment.  
"So what's your power?" Jack tensed a bit, the oceans in his eyes freezing over.  
"I'd rather not say." Mark was about to protest seeing as how he said what his was but one glance from Jack made him shut his mouth and forget what he was even asking about in the first place.  
"How 'bout we continue the tour, shall we?" Mark nodded, confused, and followed him down the corridor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who it is! Jack's here! The wait is over! Seriously though, sorry for the wait, I just needed to put some stuff in before he arrived. Or was he already here and you just didn't notice?


	6. Orders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is in control?

Jack was worried. It had been a couple weeks and he and Mark were becoming close friends and They were not going to be happy about that. He was supposed to get in, evaluate, and get out. But no, Jack had to go and f*** things up.

Currently, the two were walking home together, a trend they had settled into after Mark insisted on it one day. The weather had turned quite chilly, a recent storm allowing snow to blanket the streets. It gave everything an ethereal glow, including Mark's smile. It never failed to make him happy. I mean- he was just another subject, no different from the rest.

The snow crunched under their boots, Mark describing his play through of a video game to him and Jack had to admit it was quite funny. He had never played a video game before he had met Mark; the others were always too shy to invite him over or even talk to him most of the time. Mark was different however, he was always genuine with Jack, which made his work both harder and easier. He always knew what Mark was thinking but he was too nice for Jack to want to do his job.

He could never bring himself to use his powers on Mark, it would hurt him too much. Still, he had a job to do and if he didn't, he'd have no one left. He tapped Mark on the shoulder, looking into his eyes. 

He tried to use his powers, he really did. But Mark just kept on walking, and honestly Jack was relieved. He did not want to have to do that. He sighed, his breath turning to steam, which happened to fog up his glasses. Mark reached over and grabbed his glasses off his face, clearing them with a swipe of his hand. He placed them back on his head before turning and continuing to walk. Jack stood there for a few seconds, shocked. But he had to keep up this facade. Keep Mark occupied while he gathered information and let the professionals tell him what to do. It was much simpler than trying to comprehend his emotions. Yeah, that was a good idea. He ran to catch up and fell into stride with Mark's steps, challenging him to Mario Kart as soon as they got to his house.

As he saw Mark's eyes light up, he felt something he had never felt before. But he pushed it out of his mind. He had orders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought since I made you guys wait so long for Jack to arrive, you deserved a chapter focused on him! This chapter is a little shorter but I uploaded a long one earlier. Hope you guys are enjoying this!


	7. Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark's going crazy.

*Field Report*  
Agent McLoughlin  
Subject: Mark E. Fischbach 

Subject refuses to use his powers, probably for fear of hurting others. His mind is highly resistant, making it virtually impossible to evaluate his skills. Requesting advice on how to continue.

Official response: Use Madness to begin. Only use Annie if absolutely necessary.

~~~~~

Mark felt like shit. A week ago he started getting nightmares.They were bloody, gory, horrifying and they made him afraid to even close his eyes. And always, without fail, Mark himself was the cause of the chaos around him. Still, he managed to keep himself together. That is, until they started infiltrating his day-to-day life. He couldn't sleep, he could barely hold a pencil without dropping it, he couldn't eat cause every time he did, a disturbing image would crop up and make him want to puke. Jack could tell something was wrong but he wasn't alarmed in the slightest when Mark told he felt like he was going crazy.

He felt he might explode from the number of times that something unbelievably tiny almost managed to make him use his powers. It was probably from the severe lack of sleep. There was multiple times when at school he'd see blood on his hands and scream and people would stare at him like he was crazy. 

Except for Jack. Jack never said,"hey, maybe you need some help." Even his mom,who was never a a fan of shrinks, took him to see a psychiatrist, who just said that he needed to face his fears. But how was he supposed to do that if he was afraid of himself?

Life is hilarious.  
~~~~~  
*Field Report*  
Agent McLoughlin  
Subject: Mark E. Fischbach 

Subject still refuses to use his powers. He clearly wants to blow up but he restrains himself. His discipline is much higher than the others. Permission to use Annie?

Official Response: Do it.

Agent McLoughlin: Permission to postpone Annie?

Official Response: Make sure we know what he's capable of by the end of the month. Beyond that and we may have to do it ourselves.

Agent McLoughlin: Affirmative.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a hard knock life for us,  
> It's a hard knock life for us,  
> Instead of treated,  
> We get tricked....


	8. Annie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the hard knock life for us,  
> It's the hard knock like for us,  
> Instead of treated,  
> We get tricked....

Jack didn't want to use Annie, a technique saved for the most dire circumstances, he really didn't, but when the only thing you know how to do is follow instructions, you kinda have to. Still, he had one week left before he absolutely had to and he was not going to do it before then. He spent all possible moments goofing off with Mark, pushing away his feelings while simultaneously embracing them, seeing as it was the last time he was going to feel them. 

They played copious amounts of video games, which Mark totally beat him at, but he didn't mind. He was just trying to make Mark as happy as possible before he used Annie. He and Mark went to the state fair together and rode all the rides, ate caramel corn, and just goofed off. Mark smiled all day and Jack felt like a kid, like a normal, not-part-of-a-secret-organization kid. He couldn't help but notice the bags under Mark's eyes or the way tensed at any sharp noise. But he didn't say anything. There was no way he could've told him without blurring out that it was all his fault. Still it wasn't fair to keep giving Mark terrible nightmares if he was going to use It. So with a well placed look, Mark's nightmares were gone.

 

Mark felt better than he had in weeks. On the day he and Jack went to the state fair, they just disappeared without a trace. He bounded into school the next day, filled with renewed vigor.  
"Whoa, what's got you so happy?" Jack said, laughing as he watched Mark practically skip into the room.  
"Well you know those nightmares I was telling you about? They just...disappeared yesterday!"  
"That's great, Mark!" Mark noticed Jack's relief at that statement. It was nice to know that he cared.  
"I was wondering if you wanted to have a sleepover tonight? My parents are out of town." Mark was surprised. In this whole month, they had never gone to Jack's house, only to his. But there was nothing to worry about. He was sure his mom would say yes, he loved Jack like a son (or a son-in-law, as she was so fond of saying now.)  
"Yeah, sure! What time should I be there?"  
"Like 6ish. I'll text you the address after school."  
"Cool! See you then!" This was gonna be awesome!

 

Jack's plan was planned out to a T. He "borrowed" a house from an elderly couple by convincing them that they really needed a vacation. Then he bought supplies for the sleepover, you know, chips, soda, gasoline, matches. Then all he'd have to do was wait.

Mark came over at exactly 6:00 and they spent the night playing the video games Mark had brought over. They laughed a lot and had a lot of fun but Jack always seemed uneasy. Mark paused the game.  
"What's wrong, dude?"  
"N-nothing!" Actually something was very wrong. Jack's stomach was filled with butterflies and Mark's compliments made him glow like a traffic light. He didn't have a crush, did he? That was impossible! He's killed people,for god's sake! He wasn't supposed to get crushes, that was for immature 12 year olds.  
"If you say so." The night continued and at around 2 AM Mark called it a night, curling up into his sleeping bag. Jack stayed still until he was sure that Mark was asleep. Then, on silent feet, he crept out, dread feeling like a boulder in his stomach. 

 

The next morning came with the sound of raindrops against the glass. Mark yawned and opened his eyes, panicking because he wasn't at home but then he remembered that he was sleeping over with Jack. Jack was playing games on the couch, and unbeknownst to Mark, he had been all night to stomp down his guilt and fear. 

"Mornin' Jack." Jack jumped then threw the nearest object at Mark. It happened to be the controller.  
"Ow! What was that for?!"  
"You scared the shite out of me!"  
"That was no reason to throw the controller at me!" They both laughed but Mark couldn't help but feel a slight sense of dread in the air. He packed up his stuff, much to the dismay of Jack who was in the middle of a level. At the door, Mark couldn't help but notice how cute Jack looked with his hair messed up and in his baggy pajamas.  
"You look cute." Jack looked shocked.  
"What?! Your joking! I look like shit in the morning!"  
"You look beautiful. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise." Mark brushed a hair out of Jack's face and quickly, almost imperceptibly, he pecked Jack on the lips. He couldn't help but notice that he smelled slightly of smoke, but he brushed it off. It was probably a new cologne.  
"Bye Jack." And with that Mark walked out the door. Jack fell to the floor, tears spilling from his eyes, as the realization of what he'd just done hit him. 

Mark walked home, a fire truck passing him on the way there. He didn't think much of it until he saw the plume of smoke rising from the direction of his house. He broke into a sprint, pleading under his breath.  
"Please no, Mom, please be okay, please, please be okay!" 

 

And there his home was. Hahaha. It wasn't a home. A house even. It was a smoking pile of rubble where his house used to be. It steamed from where the morning rain had touched scorching metal. His heart beat frantically in his chest like a bird trying to escape its cage. The fire fighters were dragging someone out of the ashes. He clung to what little hope he had and rushed towards the prone figure. When they tried to stop him, he kicked and screamed that that was his mom and he needed to see if she was okay! He ran up to her body. It wasn't pretty. She used to be so pretty. Everyone used to compliment her on her looks but she always brushed them off saying that looks don't matter as long you have a good heart. He shut his eyes tightly, hoping that is all a dream and that he'd wake up still in Jack's house. But it wasn't to be. He was still stuck in the same nightmare. Ash swirled in the air, reminding him of the swirling glitter that marked the day when his life went to shit. Sobs racked his body, his tears mixing with the rain until it was impossible to tell one from the other. The truth of the situation bore down on him like the entire world was on his shoulders. He was an orphan. Mark flashed back to a movie he and his mom loved when he was a kid. They would dance and sing to the songs, his voice never quite as good as his mom's. Now the irony of the entire thing made him laugh.  
He was an orphan.  
Like

Little

Orphan

Annie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry. Also, I bet no guessed that Annie was a reference to the orphan from the musical/movie! Comments are appreciated!


	9. Agent McLoughlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sean "Jack" Mcloughlin

*Agent Summary*  
Sean "Jack" McLoughlin 

Power: Manipulation  
Threat: (1-10) 8-Serious threat/leverage

Agent is diligent in his work, not giving up until the job is done. He was previously very rebellious, tending to refuse to follow orders. This was a long time ago however, and with a little encouragement he is willing to preform most any task. His power makes him invaluable, as he can gather any amount of info swiftly and quickly. However, he tends to let his emotions lead him, dragging out some of the subjects' friendship to preserve their happiness. He has a high tendency to overthink things, leading to him hesitating and missing the moment of strike. Handle him with care. With enough of an opportunity, the could topple the organization.

We do have leverage on him. Held in cell block B: cell 16, is his mom. She's been in there for 6 years so far. Anytime Agent McLoughlin threatens to disobey, threaten him back with his mother's life. Eventually however, this threat may hold no affect against him. We are searching for any bit of leverage to hold against him.

In an emergency, terminate him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More info on the elusive Jack. 
> 
> ALSO!! I have a Tumblr now!!!
> 
> https://im-not-crazy-you-are.tumblr.com/
> 
> You can send me requests and I'll do my best to fulfill them!  
> Not much there, yet but there will be! I promise!


	10. Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack tells the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor self harm

Steps for Being the Worst Person in Existence (and keeping your mom alive):  
1\. Annie  
2\. Blame someone else.  
3\. Evaluate power based on reaction.  
4\. Ask the lab coats whether or not you should detain them.  
5\. Sit back, relax, and watch the guilt roll in. *If you begin to drown in it, remember that anywhere else you'd be locked up in a white padded cell. Not that this is much different.*  
6.Alternatively, you could be the person forcing someone to do steps 1-5

Mark felt a gloved hand at his back, a firefighter, guiding him towards a side alley. It was nestled snugly between two houses and Mark remembered sitting in the ivy, reading, the warm summer sun warming his skin as the smell of his mother's apple pie wafting through the air from down the street. Now it was empty. A husk. The frigid temperatures killed the ivy, leaving dead twigs clinging to the wall for dear life. Ash was heavy in the air, making the normally bright mid-afternoon light look gray and dead. He walked into the alley, tracing his hands along the bricks he used to draw on with street chalk. He huddled himself into the dark corner, squeezing his eyes so tightly together that he could almost see it as it used to be.

He and his friends chased each other through the street. His REAL friends. Not fake, stuck-up, entitled, rich kids. His honest, genuine friends that lived around the corner. The smile on his face was glaringly different from the half smile he wore almost constantly now. There was a huge gap in his teeth from where his teeth had started coming out, but young Mark didn't care. He was just trying not to giggle and give away his amazing hiding spot of behind a tree. Somehow, they found him. Or rather Bob did. Wade hadn't succeeded in finding Mark yet, much to the others amusement. He took all the flak, glad that it made his friends happy. They sat on the curb together, licking to heck out of their ice cream. They made stupid jokes. They laughed. Mark would give anything to be like that again.

A wet drop fell on his arm, followed by another. Mark's eyes cracked open, finally seeing the reality that is his life. It took him a few seconds to realize that the drops were coming from his eyes. As he buried his his head in his arms, he noticed something... Odd about his them. It's outline seemed hazy, and if you looked close enough, it seemed to glitch in and out of existence. Mark's eyes widened as he recognized the flicker-y appearance. He pushed himself farther back into the corner. He couldn't hurt anyone else. No one else deserved to hurt.

Jack sat on the edge of the roof, his feet dangling over the side, swaying in the ashy breeze. He watched as Mark relived his past, and started to lose control. He sighed as he leaned back onto the tiled roof. Everything was going according to plan. Except for him. Why now did he decide that he needed to feel sorry this guy? He huffed angrily as he ran a hand through his hair. Emotions were confusing. Why did he do this to people? Make them feel like shit for someone's sick experiments. His mom was all he ever had, but was the growing body count worth it? He stood up, climbing up the roof until he reached the flat top of the house. He pulled out his communicator, it looked like your average phone except for the fact that it was virtually untraceable. No way for the police to find them. Jack was almost tempted to call the police but they wouldn't stand a chance against several hundred armed and powerful..."employees."   
"Agent Mcloughlin, what's your status?"  
"Going to confront Subject Fishbach momentarily."  
"Directly?"  
"Yup."  
"Agent, we don't know how strong he is. This is suicide."  
"Then I'll die, won't I? I'm done lying."  
"Agent-"  
"Just tell me whether or not to detain him." The lab coat sighed, clearly exasperated.  
"Let's just assume yes, shall we? Jack, out." Before the lab coat could respond, the call was ended and Jack was alone again. He set his jaw. He knew it was stupid, confronting a possibly very powerful subject, but he couldn't bear lying to Mark anymore. He looked over the empty street. Everyone had been evacuated when the Fischbach household caught fire. They still hadn't returned and Jack was glad. This was gonna get messy. With a final glance around, Jack stepped off the roof and into the alley in front of him.

Mark watched as he flickered from color to black and white. He almost preferred not having color, it let him fade into the soot stained wall. Almost. If he was in black and white, he couldn't see the crimson lines running down his arms. He knew he shouldn't. He knew that it wouldn't bring his mom back. He just needed to feel something. Anything. Old Mark would've had a hypothesis about how his powers were probably pumping adrenaline through his system, so he couldn't really feel it. But Old Mark wasn't here. All that was here now was the shell of a kid, stuck in the madness of his own head. 

He wrapped his arms around his legs, tucking his head between his legs. Sobs escaped him as he rocked back and forth. He was acting like a child and he knew it. He just didn't care anymore. Emotions ran rampant in his head, he cracked the concrete when a small fly threatened to approach him. His head shot up when he heard a soft thud coming from in front of him. His eyes blazed like a fire but they softened when he saw who it was. Jack. The one constant in his life right now. Seeing such a good thing made his chest heave even harder as more sobs came from his mouth.  
"Oh Mark. What are you doing to yourself?" Jack came closer, seeing the wounds on his arms, but he stopped himself. Tears welled up in his eyes. He HATED seeing his friend in pain like this. Friend. That was a novel concept. Well whatever they had was going to be broken in a few seconds, so why bother with intricacies.   
"I'm so, so sorry Mark." He seemed to finally see Jack as he was, puffy-eyed and tired looking.  
"I-it's not y-your fault" Mark's voice was ragged from misuse and a couple hours of breathing in ashes.  
"Yes, yes it is." Jack's wavered, clearly shaken.  
"No-"  
"Yes it is Mark!" Mark was surprised by Jack's tone. It was loud and shaky, not at all the calm tone Jack had normally used. "It's all my fault! I lit the fire! I killed your mom!" Mark's expression was impossible to read, it was caught between shock and pure, unadulterated anger.   
"Why?"  
"Mark, I-"  
"WHY DID YOU KILL HER? SHE LOVED YOU!" Mark stood up off the ground, his anger taking the form of black lightning gathering around his fists. Jack took note of that, it was much different than the way Mark had attacked the jocks. That was anger. This was revenge. He winced as he felt a sharp stabbing pain in his head. It attacked his mental barriers, breaking them down slowly. It was fear. Something Jack hadn't felt in a long time.  
"They were going to kill my mom!"

That was the wrong answer. 

Mark laughed manically. He circled around Jack like a shark when there was blood in the water.  
"‘They were gonna kill my mom!‘ So it's perfectly fine for you to kill MY mom? You're a fucking hypocrite!" The lightning crackled louder and the pain in Jack's head grew ten-fold. He hadn't realized he was backing up until his back hit the wall.   
"I'M SORRY!" Mark paused momentarily and cocked his head. His eyes were void of any recognition towards the man in front of him.  
"Sorry's not enough."   
Mark's fist connected with Jack's jaw, the lightning putting more force behind it then ever should've been possible. Jack jumped into combat mode, his years of training had to be worth something. He swung, only to hit empty air. Mark appeared several feet from where he was, smirking. From that point on, it wasn't much of a fight. Every time Jack attacked, Mark was gone from where he was and always managed to land a blow on him before Jack could get his bearings. Finally, Mark seemed to get tired of playing around. He slammed Jack against the wall, Jack groaning when he heard something snap. His fingers closed around Jack's neck, not choking him, just holding him there. They were completely immovable, no matter how much Jack lashed out.

"Maybe your death will be enough." The pain in his head attacked one last time, breaking through his mind. It filled his head until he couldn't think anymore. He flailed wildly, his screams echoing through the alley. Tears fell down his face as he pleaded for his life. Some part of Mark recognized his desperation, and his grip loosened. Taking his chance, Jack pulled a syringe from his sleeve, and with a shaking hand, plunged it into Mark's neck. It was fast acting. He swayed and fell over, blinking dizzily. Before he fell asleep, he saw Jack's bloodied and bruised face leaning over him.  
"I'm sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you guys go! Sorry that updates have been sporadic but I got a lot of projects to work on. As always, comments are appreciated!


	11. Beggining of a Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How it all started...

A young boy sat on a porch, legs swinging in the breeze, his hands gripping the railing. His brown hair was in a mini-Mohawk and his eyes seemed to sparkle with never ending mischief. He looked over his front yard/ forest. A dirt road appeared from the trees, traveling in front of his house before disappearing once more into the woods. Grass tickled his feet, still damp from the morning rain. 

He spotted a trail of ants in the grass, heading into the forest. Hopping off the porch, he crouched low to the ground and with the grace of a baby deer, followed them. They led him through the trees before they climbed up a low maple tree a ways from his house. Eyeing the tree briefly, hesitant at first before childlike curiosity took over and he climbed up the trunk. The trail led up a way before trailing inside the maple. The kid found a sturdy branch near it and peered into it, disappointed to find nothing but darkness. He decided to stay up in the tree, his legs swinging once again in the fading light. 

A rumble through the trees, startling some birds. He was curious; it was very rare to see coming down the road, and what sounded to be a big car. Still he didn't worry, he didn't even know what worrying was outside of school work. So he lounged in the tree, listening to sound of birds chirping.

 

Shots rang out. Birds scattered from their nests. 1-2-3-the fourth took a little longer, allowing the boys' sister's scream to reach his ears before being silenced. Sounds of a scuffle came followed by the cursing and shouting of his mom. They became muffled. A metallic thud. The sound of heavy footsteps all around him.   
"Where's that kid? That's the only reason we came here!" A gruff voice called. Another answered.  
"Just keep searching! All your shouting probably scared him!" The steps scrambled every which way before fading away. He allowed himself a sob. And another. And another. He couldn't stop.  
"Hey, I think I heard crying from over here!" They came closer. The boy held in his tears as best he could but he couldn't breathe without either sniffling or sneezing. The footsteps fell silent. He sniffled just once but that was all it took. A hand grabbed his ankle roughly, pulling him down from the tree. He hit the ground with a thud.   
"Get up kid. Don't struggle and you won't get hurt." The soldiers eyes were icy, but behind them a sort of grave recognition lingered, as if he knew all too well what was happening here. Lashing out, the kid kicked and screamed fighting their iron grips. He howled to whatevergod to save him but nothing happened. With a sorrowful look, a bag was slipped over his head, his hands were handcuffed and he too was thrown in the car.

The car rumbled down the road, leaving behind his home and the ants; forever marching on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't that just pleasant? Hope you're enjoying it so far! Comments are appreciated!


	12. Beginning of a Hero

Another young boy stood on the sidewalk in front of his house. He laughed as he stomped the trail of ants under his feet. A pair of arms lifted him up off the ground, scooping him up. The boy froze, scared that he was in trouble. But when he looked up, his dad's face was smiling warmly.   
"Whatcha doing, tiger?"   
"Stepping on ants." The boy answered, beaming a toothless smile.  
"Why?" His smile melted into confusion.  
"'Cause...cause...they're gross?" His dad set him down on the ground. He gestured at the frantic ants scrambling below them.  
"They're just another living thing, bud. There just really, really tiny." The boy looked at the tiny insects running around his feet. He scooped up an ant that had seemed to be lost. He cupped his hands around the bug and laid a wet kiss onto his hand.  
"I'm sorry." His dad chuckled.  
"I'm sure he accepts your apology. But you might want to put him down back with his family, bud." Quick as a flash, the ant was back on the ground back on the ground.   
"You're welcome!" He yelled as if the ant was a mile away from him.  
"C'mon buddy. Let's go to the park and see if we can find any squirrels." The boys eyes were as wide as saucers and sparkled like stars.  
"I'M THE KING OF THE SQUIRRELS!" His arms waved wildly in the air as he ran down the street. His dad chuckled before chasing him down the street.  
"Wait up Mark!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are awesome! Tell me what you think!


	13. Making of a Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soldier keep on marching on,  
> Head down 'til the work is done

It was a few years later and the first young boy was now approaching his teen years. Obstinate as always, he was sitting down on a training mat, refusing to move. He had adopted the name Jack; Sean hitting too close to home. The man who took him from his home was now his trainer. Glen was his name. The first few weeks, he had refused to move from the corner, still upset. Eventually, he had warmed up to Glen and begun to do warmups with him. He had just begun to actually train, learning the basic moves of hand-to-hand combat. 

But after a brutal sparring after he had foolishly challenged one of the older officers, combined with not being able to see his mom for a month, Jack was done. So here he was, sitting on the mat, refusing to move.   
"C'mon Jack get up. We have to train today." His only response was a scoff. Sighing, Glen looked for any incentive to make Jack move.   
"Please get up Jack! They're gonna get mad at me if you don't!" Still, Jack didn't move. Glen huffed, annoyed by Jack's behavior.   
"If I take you to see your mom, will you agree to train with me?" Jack's eyes lit up like Christmas tree and he eagerly nodded. 

 

The visit lasted about an hour, Glen allowing more time then anybody else. It was a tearful conversation; Jack's mom tearing up over his conditions. At last, when it came time to leave, Jack pulled his mom into a heartfelt hug. They stayed together for a few moments before Glen cleared his throat, announcing that it was time to leave. Jack bounced all the way back to the training area, recounting tales from his childhood. Glen was stony-faced the entire walk, extremely nervous because what he just did could get him killed. Still, there was training to do. And Jack trained harder than he ever had before. 

 

Jack awoke the next morning ready to train. When he got to the training room all eyes were on him, their eyes sad and pitying. He asked a senior officer where Glen was. He laid a hand on Jack's shoulder, tears welling up in his eyes.   
"Glen was killed last night for disobeying orders. I'm sorry." Jack stood there numbly, looking around to see if it was some sort of sick joke. When no one looked him in the eye, Jack knew it was true. He ran back to his room in the barracks, tears blurring his vision. Once he made it he collapsed on the bed, glad everyone was out training. A small ant crawled up his sheets, seemingly lost. In a fit of anger, the ant was crushed beneath his palm. He inspected his hands, not surprised to see the blood his hands. It was his fault, after all.

If he had just trained.  
If he had just been stronger.  
If he had just listened.   
He would still be alive.

But.

What's done is done.

He had to keep marching on.

Like the soldier Glen was.

Like the soldier he would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The summary came from a song by Fleurie. 
> 
> https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=32W3J7XaNH8


	14. Making of a Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And when this world is no more,  
> The moon is all we'll see,  
> And I'll ask you to fly away with me,  
> Until the stars all fall down,  
> They empty from the sky,  
> But I don't mind,  
> As long as your with me,  
> Everything's alright.

Mark was now almost a teen. He sat on the edge of his bed, idly. His mom had sent him up here a little while ago, his parents voices conversing in hushed whispers. He nervously bit his lip, it was never good when they sent him up here. The anxiety was killing him.

His door was pushed open slowly and Mark jumped up, eager to know what was happening. He threw open his door to his dad leaning heavily on the door frame.   
"Dad, what's going on?!" His dad sighed, and made his way to the bed, stumbling slightly. He fell onto the bed and patted the sheets next to him. Mark sat next to him, his foot tapping patterns into the floor.  
"Mark, I'm going to the hospital." Mark began to ask what it was for this time but his dad cut him off. "They think I'm sick, bud. So I'll be there for a while." Mark was confused. This was no different from the other times he had been sent to the hospital this month. Why was now any different? His dad took a deep shuddering breath, he was starting to choke up.  
"I just want you to know that if I don't come back, I want you to keep doing your best. And never hesitate to help anyone in need."  
"Dad, what-" Mark was pulled into a hug, his dad crying into his shoulder. Not sure how to react, Mark sat there, tentatively returning the hug. Finally, he pulled back and his dad gave him a watery smile. He attempted to get up on his own but his feet couldn't hold his weight. Mark helped him up and guided him towards the door. His dad pulled him into another hug.  
"Mark, I love you. Please don't ever forget that. I love you so much." And with one last smile, his dad walked out of the door. Tears began streaming down Mark's face.

"I love you too, Dad."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to "From the Other Side of the Screen" and "Everything's Alright" while listening to this and I teared up a little. 
> 
> Tell me how you think this is going!


	15. Soldier Keep On Marching On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soldier keep on marching on,  
> Head down 'til the work is done,  
> Waiting on that morning sun,  
> Soldier keep on marching on.
> 
> Head in the dust, feet in the fire,  
> Labor on that midnight wire,  
> Listening for that angel quire,  
> You got nowhere to run.
> 
> You wanna take a drink of that promise land,  
> You gotta wipe the dirt off of your hands,  
> Careful, son, you got dreamers plans,  
> But it gets hard to stand.

Jack stumbled out of the apartment building, his leg torn and bloodied. _Of course_ the subject just happened to sleep with a 90 pound Rottweiler. He cursed under his breath as he felt the blood trickle down his leg. Still, he got the job done. His mom was safe for another day. _Safe_... it was a relative term. She wasn't going to die today, at the very least.

Clotheslines sliced through the street light, dangling clothes acting as decorations for the putrid alleyway. Jack inched his way through the darkness, nearly invisible unless you really looked for him. No one needed to know what just happened. No one needed to know what Jack did. He winced as he remembered her pleading cries before being silenced by a bullet, her body falling next to that of her dog. Bile rose up in his throat, threatening to spill over. He kept it down however, focusing on the smile that would be on his mom's face when he got back.

Jack sighed. A smile wouldn't change what Jack just did. How much blood he had on his hands. His fists clenched at his sides; he hated nights like this. When the subject apparently wasn't worth it anymore and Jack had to go in and "destroy any evidence," their screams following him wherever he went. The blood dripping from his hands. The betrayal scrawled across their face as someone they considered a friend caused their last breath. The light that faded from their eyes as he-

Jack's retching echoed between the graffitied walls of the alley. He fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. Sobs racked his chest as he remembered all he had done. He thought about ending it all. Taking the gun out of its holster, placing its cold metal on his forehead and pulling the trigger to end the pain.   
But... he didn't.  
Instead he wiped his mouth and stood, facing his reality.  
He marched on, making his way back to his mom.   
Back to his prison.   
Back to the only home he'll ever have.   
Back to the only place where he wouldn't feel like a murderer.

"One day, Ma. I'm gonna do good in this world." _Until then, he'd have to settle for washing the blood off his hands._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song in the summary:
> 
> https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=32W3J7XaNH8
> 
> Poor Jack's life is all sorts of screwed up.


	16. A Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark is a hero.

Mark softly closed the front door of the house. _His home_. He had to remember to start calling it that. It _was_ his home now after all. But he couldn't right now. The musty smell of cardboard boxes in combination with a bottle of his dad's cologne that had shattered this morning made him feel uneasy. Like he was split between two worlds. The past and the present. So he decided to go for a walk in an attempt to clear his head.

He walked around his new neighborhood. It looked... _nice_. But not like home. Each house was exactly the same, rectangles pushed together but not touching, as if placed there by an OCD toddler. The only variation seemed to be in the slight difference of color. Still, Mark could learn to accept it.

Preppy teens walked around; their pastel sweater vests and polos making them look as though they would blow away in the wind. Mark felt out of place in his red flannel and black skinny jeans but no one seemed to notice him. They simply continued on their way, probably heading to a tennis match at the country club. The air was stale, as if no one had truly laughed here. It was stifling. Mark had to get out of there. Ducking his head, he walked and walked and walked.

When he finally looked up he had reached the edge of the suburbs. A large meadow stretched as far as Mark could see. The road split it in half like a sword. The grass waved in the breeze; it was the only thing Mark had seen that wasn't manicured to perfection. Mark loved it. It reminded him so much of home. The park his dad used to take him to. The squirrels that used to scamper around Mark's feet, unafraid. But, good times aren't made to last.

Mark didn't realize he was crying until he tasted salt on his lips. His father's cologne clung to him, stinging his nose and tearing him away from the present. His mind felt clogged with memories, making him see things that weren't there. His dad's smile. An apple pie. The warm embrace of his dad as he left, his faded sweat shirt that had multiple holes in it.

A truck came barreling down the road, its engine roaring loudly, shaking Mark from his daze. The first thing he noticed was that the truck was going very fast. The second thing he noticed was the kid. Meandering across the road, ear buds in, clearly not paying attention. Mark yelled and waved trying to get his attention. No such luck. Steeling himself for the worst, Mark leapt into action. He shoved the kid out of the way. They fell, probably had a scraped knee but it was better than what was coming. The truck blared its horn, as if only realizing that there was someone in front of him. Acting on instinct and something he saw in action movie alone, Mark dropped to the ground and laid himself as flat as he could against the ground.

The engine roared in his ears, lights ran past him and he was almost certain that he was going to get run over. Blood pounded in his ears. Something pressed down on his elbow and he felt it crack. Iron filled his mouth from where had bit his tongue to stop himself from screaming.  
Then.   
Silence.

The truck passed over Mark. He stood wobbly, feeling like he might faint. His arm was mangled; it had a bad case of road burn and it bent at an angle it shouldn't have been in. He looked over to the side of the road to see the kid, safe and sound, his khakis scuffed from when he was pushed. His eyes were wide and he looked at Mark, not as if he had just saved his life, but as if Mark expected something in return. And so, without a word of thanks, the kid ran off, leaving Mark alone in the middle of the road.

Mark sighed as he looked down the street. The truck was long gone, not giving Mark a chance to catch his license plate. He winced as he felt his arm throb. The shock was probably wearing off. Cradling his arm to his chest, he walked home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geez I just really can't stop beating up on these guys. But don't you worry! The next chapter will continue the story I know you've all been waiting for!


	17. Fovos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now back to your regularly scheduled story.

A man strode down the tiled hallway, his shoes clacking against the gray flooring. His pristine white lab coat trailed behind him, his face bearing a joyous grin. Silver hair was neatly trimmed on his head and his dark eyes shone with something that could only be described as manic determination. He greeted all who happened to cross his path; their only response was to force a smile and nod cordially. He made his way to the most secure section in the facility, having to pass many security clearance checks before reaching his destination. He inhaled a deep breath before entering, savoring the moment that could change his career forever. 

Inside the door was a dim room, lit only by a small desk lamp and the light pouring from the viewing window. A technician sat at the only desk, monitoring vitals and checking for any irregularities in the subject's power. Absorbed in his work, the tech only turned around when the door slid closed. Seeing the man the tech panicked slightly, scrambling to clear all the loose papers from his desk.   
"Mr. Fovos,sir! We weren't expecting you here so early!" Fovos lazily waved a hand, dismissing the techs worries.  
"I was rather excited to examine this specific project, as you should understand, so I decided that I needed to see the subject for myself." His gaze grew icy. "Is there a problem?" The technician stammered a reply.  
"N-no sir! In fact, he should be waking sometime soon!" Fovos seemed pleased by this and stalked over to the glass window, looking at what could be his best achievement yet.   
"Open the door." The technician hesitated, worry written on his face. "Did I stutter?" His voice was menacing, sending a chill up the techs spine. Without any further delay, the door slid open and Fovos walked through.

The familiar scent of antiseptic permeated the room. All of the walls were gray, the floor was gray, the ceiling was gray, tubes of fluorescent lighting the only thing breaking the monotony. But that's not what Fovos was focused on. The subject laid on a surgical table in the middle of the room, wearing a plain blue jumpsuit. Beside him lay a variety of tools that he would use on the subject during testing. But that was for later. Now was time for observing. He took mental notes, filing them away for future use. The subject was physically fit, meaning that Fovos could preform more tests. To his distaste however, shallow cuts adorned their arms, marring the image of his work. A puncture mark from a needle lay in his neck; the wound wasn't clean and it almost missed the vein. Fovos frowned. McLoughlin was getting sloppy. Scar tissue adorned the skin around his elbow, although that was to be expected. Despite these, everything else was perfect. 

Inhaling once more, he prepared himself for the worst. He waved a hand towards the window; signaling the tech to start the procedure. Steel cuffs surrounded the subject's wrists and ankles, a single band wrapped itself around its forehead, preventing any movement. Sparks danced at Fovos' finger tips; he had been struggling to contain them all morning, nearly blowing a fuse in the coffee machine. With giddy excitement, a finger was pressed against the subjects pulse, sending a live current through his veins, jolting him awake. The subject eyes were wide and upon seeing Fovos, attempted to move away, only to find he was stuck. He pulled against them with some sort of vain hope but they offered no more give than a steel beam. He looked up at the man, eyes wild with fear and anger and confusion.  
"W-who are- what am I doing here?" Fovos grinned, not unlike that of a wolf stalking its prey.   
"You, my boy, will be my greatest experiment yet!"   
"Experiment? W-wh-" The man pressed a finger against his lips, the gesture soft but his glare sharp.  
"Everything will be revealed in due time." Fovos leaned over the tools, plucking a syringe from the tray, blue liquid sloshing on the inside.   
"Get that thing away from me!" Black lightning crackled around the subject's fists, one of the tendrils lashing out, knocking the syringe into the wall, smashing it to bits. Fovos whistled lightly, surprised at the subjects stupidity.   
"That," he said, grabbing what looked to be a cattle prod off the tray "was the stupidest thing you could've done."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have returned to the present! Does anyone know what "Fovos" means? Criticism is appreciated, as always!


	18. Realizing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark wakes up.

Mark awoke when he heard the door hiss open softly. The first thing he noticed was the pain, the white hot burning pain flowing in his veins. It burned under his skin, the pain centering around his knee and a spot on his ribcage. His breathing was shallow and his face was beaded with sweat; it was a wonder he had been able to fall asleep at all. The second thing he noticed was the man. Standing at the door, the man looked fairly average except for one thing. His face was largely covered by a plain white mask with two circles as eyes and a straight line as a mouth. He extended a hand and Mark not trusting anything coming from this place, scrambled backwards on the table pulling his knees to his chest. He winced as he did so, the pain in his knee intensified ten-fold. The man simply chuckled lightly, stuffing his hands in his pockets, an unrecognizable tune echoing out from under the mask.

The man didn't say anything.

Neither did Mark.

But the man had more willpower than Mark. Giving into his curiosity, he spoke, his voice still gravely.

"W-who are you?" It hurt to talk. It felt like ants crawling up and down his esophagus.

"Ryan. Just Ryan." The man's voice was younger than Mark expected him to be. He was no older than Mark at the most.  
"I know that it sucks to be here but the quicker you let me fix you up the quicker you can go back to sleep." While Mark was still suspicious of Ryan, the prospect of sleep sounded like a dream. Mark quickly nodded and a slight smile peeked out from under Ryan's mask.

Ryan stepped closer, lab coat swishing behind him. He pulled a stool out from from under the table and grabbed a clipboard from inside his coat.  
"Standard procedure tells me that me I'm supposed to report any and all injuries and how your regeneration is going." Mark looked at him quizzically, still not putting his legs down.  
"Regeneration?" Ryan waved a hand dismissively.  
"Yeah, it just speeds up healing."  
"Is that why it feels like my insides are on fire?" Ryan scribbled something down on his clipboard, mumbling under his breath.  
"It shouldn't be hurting. Did he not give you anesthetic?" Mark winced as he remembered what had happened.  
"That wouldn't happen to be a syringe of blue liquid would it? Because I may have smashed that against the wall." Ryan sighed clearly disappointed and scribbled that down too.  
"Well, what hurts in particular?"  
"My knee and my ribs." Ryan carefully prodded them, eliciting small hisses from Mark. He wrote down his findings saying them loud enough for Mark to hear.  
"Subject's left 4th rib appears to be fractured. His left knee also appears to be severely fragmented with the tendon pulled out of alignment." Mark's eyes widened in shock.  
"Is it really that bad?" Ryan shrugged without looking up.  
"Standard protocol states that I report anything exactly as it is. However, _my_ protocol allows me to stretch the truth, allowing you more time to rest and heal." Mark laughed, a sensation he felt like he hadn't felt in years.  
"Thank you, Ryan." He looked up from the clipboard, messy brown hair falling in front of his mask.

"Don't thank me yet. Now comes the hard part."

The hard part entailed of scrubbing out each and every gash, of which there were many. Ryan worked silently the whole time, Mark's gasps of pain the only sound in the tiled room. Out of the blue, Ryan began to speak.  
"My friends us-call me Cry."  
"Can I?" Ryan laughed as though that was the funniest thing.  
"Dude I'm literally cleaning your wounds in the middle of a secret laboratory. You could call me the fucking Mona Lisa for all I care." Mark laughed at that. (Which kinda hurt cause of his rib but he wasn't about to say anything.)  
"Well Cry, thanks for being the first true friend I've had in a month." Cry didn't respond right away, accidentally pressing too hard on one a burn mark on Mark's shoulder, eliciting a pained groan from Mark.  
"What about Jack?" Cry finally replied his voice more somber than before. Mark was curious as to how Cry knew of Jack but chose not to say anything, his anger bubbling up before his rationality.  
"He was never a friend. Friends don't kill other friends parents." Mark spat angrily. Cry sighed and replaced himself on the stool. He peeled off his gloves and placed them on the tray. He ran a hand through his hair as if this conversation stressed him out.  
"Do you know why he killed your mom, Mark?" Mark replied with a scoff.  
"To save _his_ mom."  
"Do you know why he fights so hard to keep his mom around?"  
Mark stuttered at this question. Did their have to be a why? The fact was that Jack killed his mom, end of story. Before he could say that, Cry answered the question for him.  
"His family is dead Mark." Mark felt the ground tumble out from beneath him.  
"W-what?" Cry's gaze turned towards the ceiling, his pen twirling idly between his fingers.  
"His dad, his sisters and his brother all shot and killed on the same day. By the same company that brought you here. By the same company that brought me here. By the same company that brought Jack here. Everyone here, in fact. All of them except Mr. Crazy himself." A shuddering breath fell from Mark's lips, his carefully constructed reality he had built around him had been crushed in a matter of seconds.  
"Oh god, I'm sorry. I-I didn't know-"  
"It's okay. They never do." Cry cut him off bitterly. Cry stood, pulling a blanket from somewhere within his jacket. Tossing it at Mark he headed for the door.  
"Oh and Mark?" He paused, hand hovering over the light switch.  
"Sleep tight." And with that the room was plunged into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating, I just could not figure out how I wanted to write this chapter. Still here it is! I hope that the addition of Cry could at least make up for some of my absence.


	19. A/N

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just questions for you guys. Feel free to skip over this.

So this story is going fairly well, I feel like, but I wanna know what you guys think. Did I make Mark too likable? Does everyone hate Jack? I don't like it when authors add these but I really want to know. Anything from criticism to complements are appreciated!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about this intermission guys! I'm just not sure if you guys are enjoying this so please tell me what you like or dislike about this.


	20. Sorry guys

I cannot, with good intentions, continue writing septiplier. It hurts me to see that this fandom has descended into a frenzy of shipping that has escalated to the point that they can no longer interact as they once did. I do not want to become part of the problem.

This work will be orphaned within a week. Anyone willing to continue the story or use this idea may do so. 

I'm sorry, I just can't anymore.


	21. Hi! A/N

Long time no see huh?

Well I'm hoping to start this story again! Hope to see you soon. ;) I know what I said before so just to save myself the sanity, the septiplier miiiight be toned down a bit. I don't know yet. But we'll see what happens yeah?


	22. Soup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We return to our regularly scheduled programming.

       Mark slept fitfully that night. Smoky figures lurked at the edges of his vision. They kept getting closer and closer until they were on top of him, suffocating him, the silence deafening on his ears as they stared down at him with blank faces. The smoke enveloped him, blinding him and binding him where he stood. A whisper broke through the mist.

"You deserve this." 

The voice sounded Irish.

 

     Mark sat up with a gasp, cold sweat pouring down his forehead. An insistent pounding on the door, told him what had woken up. 

    "Subject Fischbach. You are two minutes late. Hurry up." Mark slid off the lab table, holding his head. Everything hurt. Another knock sounded. "I'll be out in a second!" He yelled in response. He stretched as best he could, trying to push the nightmare out of his head. He hit the key pad and the door slid open. 

      

     He hesitantly stepped out into the hall, the tile cold under his feet. It was completely devoid of people, leaving it creepily empty. Steeling his nerves and pretending it was just a video game, Mark made his way down the hall, bracing himself for anything.

 

     He followed the low thrum of voices to the cafeteria, pushing open the doors. Immediately all the conversations stopped. All eyes were on him. Some looked sympathetic while others rolled their eyes, others glared at him like he had done something wrong. The tension was thick in the room, a bolt of darkness shot up his arm, reacting to his anxiety. A voice finally broke the stifling silence.        

 "You ain't shit!" 

      Nervous chuckles rippled through the room, followed by chatter, and Mark finally exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. 

     Suddenly, a hand was on his shoulder. Mark whipped around, met with a familiar mask. "Easy there. It's just me." Mark let out a nervous sigh at seeing Cry’s face. 

    "You have no idea how happy I am to see you." 

    "I think I do. But let's get some food yeah?" Mark let himself be led towards the food. He was served soup and water, whereas Cry just grabbed some bread, shooting a smile at the lady behind the counter. Cry pushed him to the corner, stares following them both, hushed whispers trailing in their wake. 

Mark sat down at the table, which was ironically squeaky. His fingers ran along the underside of the metal table, tracing the bolts reflexively. Cry gnawed on his bread, ignoring the not-so-hidden stares of the other… subjects?

      “Cry?”

      “Mhmm?” he spoke through a mouthful of bread.

      “Who… who are these people?” Cry swallowed.

      “Subjects, like you.” Mark nodded, slurping up some of his soup. He finally built up to ask the question that had been gnawing at him.

      “Why are you a doctor?” Cry took a while to respond. “I… have been here a long time.” He adjusted his mask. Mark opened his mouth to apologize but before he could, a whirring sound came from the center of the room, accompanied by the sound of scraping chairs and anxious murmuring. Turning around in his chair, Mark watched as the other subjects crowded around a screen. Some of the younger people hesitated before fleeing the room. Mark caught a bright flash of blue before it disappeared into the flood of people running from the cafeteria. He moved to get up and see what everyone was looking at but Cry grabbed his arm, shaking his head slightly.

“Let’s go work out.”

Cry pulled him from the room and Mark followed, shooting a curious glance backwards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this took way too long. Sorry, but I'll try to update more frequently. Comments are appreciated, as always.


End file.
